This being my first diary entry, I want to offer fair warning: in this and subsequent posts, there will be a great many reference to farm animals. I live on a farm. I raise farm animals. We have horses, sheep, pigs, chickens, dogs, cats, and one sad and lonely duck (his is a long story, and I'm not going to tell it here & now, but I may later). Today, though, I want to focus on a pig.
These past 10 days, I've been fighting the good fight to keep 4 struggling piglets from untimely death. I wish I could say I was successful, but 3 of the 4 perished — one just last night. They'd been sold to us by a semi-factory farmer who told us they were 6-week-old weanlings, and my hubby — good with animals, but not an expert on baby creatures — took him at his word. When I came out to the barn, though, I looked down into the crate to see four wee little things about the size of a chihuahua, only fatter. I gently poked one in the nose and sure enough, he started sucking on my finger. "Honey," I said, "These guys are sucklings, not weanlings."
"They're 6 weeks old," he replied. "They should be right about ready for weaning."
I was dubious. I turned to the Internet. I found information showing that 6 week old piglets should weigh no less than 20-25 pounds. Piglets the size of the ones we had were maybe 2, maybe 3 weeks old, unless the farmer we'd bought them from had passed off a collection of runts on us (also a possibility). I went back to the barn and explained this to my husband. He looked down at the piglets, not one of whom tipped the scales at more than 10 pounds, and sighed. "What are we going to do with these guys?"
I did have some baby formula for farm animals on hand — I'd gotten it on the off chance our pregnant ewe rejected her baby, which she did not — so after a run to the local feed store to get some nipples, we commenced bottle feeding the piglets... not knowing that this was just the beginning. You see, the farmer from whom we'd obtained them had not only lied about their age and feeding status, he'd also given us pigs infected with E. coli — and it took only a few days of hand-feeding them to realize that they were not thriving. Naturally, we assumed it was the feed, and tried bolstering its nutrient value — but they deteriorated notably overnight. One died, crushed (I thought) under his siblings. He bore a strange bruise on his abdomen; I put it down to another pig having stepped on him after death. I did more Internet research, realized that the continual loose stools they emitted were not a normal product of a liquid diet, learned that E. coli could cause thinning and rupture of the bowel (a-HA!) and started looking for medications for them. The local feed store didn't have what I wanted. A nearby Tractor Supply store carried it, but was out of stock. They ordered more, but by the time I got a bottle 2 days later, a second pig had died, and a third was in dire straits. The fourth, being somewhat fatter than the other three, was still eating and drinking okay, but we could see he was starting to decline.
We started treatment, and this is where I learned about what a challenge a sick baby pig can be. The sicker pig, whom we called Hayley [yes, it's a bad idea to name your eating animals; we named them anyway] was losing fluids at an alarming rate. Dehydrated, he looked skeletally thin, and was too weak to stand. I gave him formula and water from a bottle and a dish as he lay there... and I thought, he's not going to make it through the night.
Yet he continued to eat and drink, so I continued to offer food and water. The following morning, I was shocked when he tottered to his feet, pushing and squealing to get his share of the formula. He rallied. He grew stronger. Then he declined again. We kept medicating, kept feeding, kept giving water and Pedialyte. He rallied again. I watched him fight for life and thought, "He has spunk, this little guy. I'm going to stick by him as long as it takes." We gave B-complex vitamins and iron shots. Found a stronger antibiotic. Offered nutritional supplements. Anything I could find to support a sick piglet, we gave. My kitchen did double duty as a porcine ICU. And two days ago, I thought we'd turned the corner with Hayley.
I was wrong.
Overnight, Hayley deteriorated again. We tried, as a last ditch effort, to get an IV into him, but his tiny veins were just too small. In the end, we came to the realization that we were out of options, and anything else we did would just prolong his pain. We let him go. He died this morning.
...And, you're wondering, this sad story has WHAT to do with politics?
Here's the thing about pigs: they care about each other. Through the whole entire drama, Hayley's bigger brother, Boris, never left him. To the extent that when we separated them, fearing Boris might inadvertently lay on top of Hayley and suffocate him, Boris went to extreme measures to climb out of the bin we had him in and find his way back into Hayley's. No mean feat for a little guy like him. He comforted his brother. He prodded him. He stayed with him until the end... and even beyond. After Hayley passed away, I took Boris out of the bin and let him wander about the kitchen, exploring. He whuffled his way here and there, then went back to the bin where Hayley's sad little corpse lay. I watched him hoist himself back in and lay down next to his brother, placing his snout gently on Hayley's withered haunches. When at last we removed Hayley from the bin, Boris was disconsolate. Any time anyone comes near, he's looking for attention, a bottle, ear scratches... then going to the corner of the bin to lie down exactly where he can still smell his brother's scent. I'm not anthropomorphizing: the pig is depressed. We've been picking him up and cuddling him every few hours so he can have the contact he craves. Otherwise, I think he might pine himself to death.
Politicians, now... especially GOP politicians. I have watched in disgust and anger this election year as they gain political "points" by taking aim at the sick, the dying, the less fortunate, the outcast, anyone and everyone they can make into a popular punching bag. Which among them has shown the kind of simple caring for their fellows as this poor little piglet? I look in vain for a political leader in the GOP who cares more about the well-being of the sick, suffering, failing members of our society than for a good photo op and TV coverage. Democratic pols aren't much better — many of them make the right noises, but when push comes to shove, they don't routinely stand up for the policies that will make the world a better place for the downtrodden. Even those on both sides with a glimmering of kindness will suppress it, often ruthlessly, in the name of gaining ground on their opposition. They live to fight one another, rather than to serve or help those in need.
They could stand to learn a great deal from Boris the Pig when it comes to caring and compassion.
Thu Mar 22, 2012 at 7:33 AM PT: Thanks for the feedback, folks. Just to update you — Boris is doing fine. We learned from the vet that he also suffers from Coccidia worms (not the usual Strongids, so he needs a special de-worming medicine). Judging by the way he was running around the kitchen this morning, though, he's feeling a lot better. He's also figured out that morning means shots (which is why he was running). We're trying to find him a bunny to keep him company, since it's quite clear he feels lonely and, as a consequence, scared.
Thu Mar 22, 2012 at 9:44 AM PT: Boris now has somebunny to love. Little black & white lop-eared bunny I've named Freddy, despite having no idea of his gender.
Fri Mar 30, 2012 at 4:24 PM PT: It is with great sorry that I report to you that Boris is no longer with us. He passed away about an hour ago, from pneumonia. I posted the details in my most recent diary. Thank you all for your concern.